


In this silence, I believe.

by WinterTeaCupBook



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deaf Character, Depression, Fluff and Angst, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTeaCupBook/pseuds/WinterTeaCupBook
Summary: After defeating Voldemort, Harry looses his hearing, and returns to Hogwarts for an 8th year, hoping to find answers.Little does he know that everything has changed...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Antisocialpenguintalks on Tumblr for the idea (I assure you, I'm heading in different direction, although it may seem similar, her fic can be found at http://archiveofourown.org/works/13243431/chapters/30293283)
> 
> All comments, love and constructive criticism welcomed. 
> 
> I'll try and update regularly! 
> 
> Love to you all in the HP universe (which unfortunately for us, exists only in our hearts and heads, and belongs to HRH JKR).

_ In this white wave _

_ I am sinking _

_ In this silence _

             - **Silence, Delirium feat. Sarah Mclachlan**

 

 

\-----

 

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, looking out at the sea of students. They looked to be talking amongst themselves, hands flying as they perhaps retold a funny story, couples sitting together with heads bent close, and some students sitting alone, probably remembering the last time they were in the Great Hall. Recalling the smell of smoke, blood and death.

 

Harry quickly looked at Hermione and Ron sitting opposite. They were murmuring together, bodies slightly turned to face the other. It felt intimate.

 

Harry gazed back at the students with a pang of jealousy. Since the Battle of Hogwarts his life had dramatically changed. For a number of reasons. Some were little changes, like Hermione and Ron deciding to be serious about their relationship. Some were big, like Ginny and his relationship falling apart. And some changes were catastrophic.

 

Harry snorted to himself. Catastrophic? Way to go with the dramatics. Although being in the Great Hall, amongst hundreds of people and sitting in absolute silence did seem to be the biggest and most life altering change of all.

 

The healers at St Mungos had said it was a curse. Possibly delayed after he had returned to life. Although Harry, in his darkest moments of the past few months, saw it as his price to pay. He'd returned from death to defeat Voldemort, and Death needed payment, taking his hearing and cutting off communication to everyone. It could be worse, his friends had said. You're lucky, the healers had told him, in the week he had spent at the hospital while they tried to determine the damage. Harry didn't think it could be worse, and he certainly didn't feel lucky. He felt alone.

 

After tests upon tests and a week spent in St Mungos the healers had said they found no damage to his ears. No brain damage and nothing to indicate why his hearing had gone. His first day there Hermione and Ron had stayed the whole time, reading, talking amongst themselves, writing on scraps of parchment to communicate with Harry. They even played some exploding snap and wizards chess. The second day they stayed for a few hours, a repeat of the day before. The third day, only Hermione came to visit. It was awkward and writing to each other seemed forced. The forth day neither came and Harry was alone again.

 

In his own silent world, Harry thought over his life. He'd spent hours thinking. Remembering Snape. And Dumbledore. Their actions and decisions and plans.

 

He also thought about Voldemort. Which lead to thinking about the Death Eaters, which of course, lead to Draco Malfoy.

 

Harry had spent a lot of that time alone at the hospital thinking about Draco Malfoy.

 

When the opportunity came to return to Hogwarts for an 8th year, Harry initially hated the idea. But... he couldn't be an Auror now, not when he was deaf. What else could he do with his life? The only option he had was to go back to Hogwarts, complete his NEWTS and try to find answers.

 

That lead to him sitting at the Gryffindor table on September 1st for the Welcoming Feast, among a very large group of students, at a recently mended Hogwarts.

 

A piece of paper was pushed under his nose, in Hermione's neat writing. ' _McGonagall is putting the 8th years _ _ in their own seperate dorm this year.  _ _ She's explaining it now. On the second  _ _ floor with our own common room! How  _ _ exciting!' _

 

Harry looked up to see Hermione and Ron talking enthusiastically amongst themselves. It looks like he had missed the speech, and sorting had commenced. Of course he saw the tables clapping so could tell which houses were getting the new first year students. Gryffindor seemed to be a popular house. Slytherin was practically empty. Harry could see some of the returning 8th years as well. It had been explained to him early on that many of the Slytherins were required to return to school as part of their Wizengamot sentences. Part of some rehabilitation program. They would be attending extra classes on and would be assisting the professors in coursework, but were encouraged to complete their NEWTS with the rest of the students.

 

Harry's gaze went to Parkinson. She sat quietly, shoulders bowed, eyed locked on the table.  Malfoy, sitting next to her, back straight and chin raised. He looks cocky and confident. Or at least pretending to be. Harry could tell it was all for show, like some sort of defence mechanism. He'd spent enough time over the past few years watching him to know what that look meant. It was probably also because he had to rely more on his observation of body language and facial expressions since the accident that he could see that the students in Slytherin were unhappy and almost... frightened.

 

Malfoy looked at Harry then and their eyes locked. Harry knew what he looked like. He'd seen his face in the mirror enough over the past few months knowing that he looked broken. His eyes were blank, his face was a mask and he felt nothing. Malfoy's eyes widened a little as they continued to watch each other. His head cocked to the side, as if he was trying to work something out.

 

The whole school knew of course. The whole of the wizarding world knew. His hearing problem had been leaked to the Daily Prophet within a week of his visit to hospital.

 

Harry just continued to look at Malfoy. His white hair was shorter than it was during the battle, the front a little longer over his forehead. He didn't look as thin or tired either. Post-war life was obviously good for him. Harry however had grown his hair longer, not because he wanted long hair, he just didn't have the energy to do anything with it. He'd eventually taken a hair band from Hermionie and pulled it into a bun at the back of his head. He sometimes liked to think this is how Sirius had worn his hair at this age. The thought made Harry smile a little.

 

Malfoy looks shocked for a moment and turns away.

 

Without anything to look at, Harry went back to his own silent world, and continued to think about Sirius and Remus and their time at Hogwarts.

 

\-----

 

 

Draco elbowed Pansy lightly, "Darling, try and look like you're happy to be here."

 

Pansy just looked at him briefly and went back to eating. A little frown on her face.

 

Draco sighed and looked back at Potter. He was staring into space, a completely blank look on his face. Draco had heard about his loss of hearing, and had seen Granger pass notes to him during dinner, but hadn't seen anyone interact with him. Except for that smile. God that smile. Potters eyes had lit up and crinkled a little. It was beautiful and Draco and been frozen looking at him. He'd felt the blush of course, the tell tale sign of heat travelling up from his neck and over his face and had looked away before Potter could catch a sign of it. But that smile. What the hell had Draco done to earn that look from the Saviour himself? Potter was staring into space, lost again. How on earth did Granger and Weasley stand it? It was like there was nothing left of him. Everything that was Potter had gone, except for this shell of a person, sitting still and quiet in a room of loud, bright movement.

 

Draco had seen the changes, sure Potter had the same round glasses and school uniform lined in the red and gold, but his hair was much longer, and pulled back into a messy bun. He was taller, much taller than Draco remembered. And Potter certainly wasn't the skinny kid he'd been a few years ago, he had broadened slightly, filled out across his shoulders. Not that Draco was looking of course.

 

He went back to his dinner, listening to the chatter and talk around the Great Hall, and wondered what it was like to be stuck in Potters head.

 

 

\-----

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to AntiSocialPenguinTalks on Tumblr for giving me the idea of Deaf!Harry returning to school. 
> 
> Please leave love and comments - all constructive criticism welcomed, its the one way we can be better at what we love xx
> 
> The hp universe does not belong to me, unfortunately.

\-----

 

_I have seen you _

_ In this white wave _

_ You are silent _

             -  **Silence, Delirium feat. Sarah Mclachlan**

 

 

\-----

 

The 8th years are escorted to their new dorm by the headmistress. While the group were given the run down on rules, Harry was passed a written list of changes for the year. They were considered adults, and as such, were expected to behave as adults, or at least that is what Harrys overall impression was. He was honestly too tired to care.

 

Although one rule stuck out as particularly harsh. 8th years weren't allowed to play in the quidditch tournament. Harry understood, they were older than the other teams and it was an unfair advantage, but there wasn't much left he utterly loved and playing Quidditch was one of them. Maybe he could go out flying instead, pull Ron aside for a one-on-one match over the weekend or something. It'll be like old times. Maybe.

 

Afterwards, Harry and Ron walk down a corridor to the new 8th year dormitory, which is shared with Neville and two of the only Slytherin boys to return: Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Harry could see how awkward it was at first, especially between Ron and Malfoy, eyeing each other from their sides of the room. Malfoy soon took some quiet advice from Zabini and kept to himself. Harry watched from his bed. Noting the anxiety thick in the air.

 

The new dorm was quite nice. Being only two floors up, the view was of the rolling lawn on the west side of the school, which could be seen outside the large square windows in the room. The dorm itself was long, with beds either side of the room, separated from each other by a private window, desk and wardrobe. Being used to the reds in Gryffindor tower, the creams and greys in this new room were calming and understated.

 

Harry had left his trunk to be unpacked later, but placed some photo frames next to his bed. One of his parents when they were his age, another of Ron, Hermione and him at school 5th year, the last of himself and Sirius also in 5th year.  The last few months had been so difficult. The constant feeling of hurt, despair and jealousy. Things had meant to be better after Voldemort had gone. In some ways they were worse. So many people had been lost, so many deaths and so much pain. The Weasleys were still coming to terms with Fred's death. The Burrow, previously a place of comfort and family had become cold and dark. Harry had spent much of his time at Grimmauld Place, attempting to renovate here and there, spending days at a time alone. The Burrow wasn't a place he wanted to be anymore.

 

He knows he's been distancing himself from his friends, withdrawing more and more. He couldn't help it, for some reason. They didn't understand, and Harry was tired. 

As he sat watching the photos and thinking of how much had happened in his life, Harry noticed movement in the corner of his eye and looked up. Malfoy, sitting on the bed next to his, was watching him.

 

Harry regarded him for a few moments before checking the rest of the people in the room. Ron, in the bed the other side of Harry was throwing clothes everywhere, probably looking for this pyjamas, Zabini, whose bed was opposite Malfoy's, was no longer there, and Neville, next to Zabini's had his curtains drawn.

 

Harry looked back at Malfoy, leaning on a book and writing on a piece of parchment, when he got up and walked straight over to Harry. He sat next to him on the bed and handed the note over. Harry was stunned for a moment. Starring at Malfoy. Who was currently sitting next to him. On his bed. Next to him. Looking amazing. _Wait- looking what?_

 

Harry quickly looked down and started reading the note: _'do you know the spell for converting spoken word into writing for classes?'_

 

Harry nodded quickly, looking back at Malfoy. He'd frowned, cocking his head again, like he had during the feast.

 

Snatching back the piece of parchment, he started writing quickly, handing it back. _'Potter, can you talk?'_ Harry felt his lips press firmly together, eyebrows drown down and he felt that stab of _something_  in his chest. He could read the tone of voice, simply from Malfoy's words. 

 

"Yes," he knows the words came out, probably croaky and quiet, because Malfoy's mouth dropped open and his eyebrows flew up. He had to cough then, unused to talking, and wrote on the note,  _'I can't hear myself. I used to scream at everyone.'_ Malfoy had moved slightly closer to read it and nodded.

 

_'Do you know wizarding sign language?'_ Malfoy wrote back, smaller, at the very edge of the page.

 

Harry shakes his head, "Can't, unstable magic," his throat burns, painful with disuse. He reaches for the parchment, turns it over, and writes, _'my magic has been unstable, the hand gestures can cause problems, especially with the wandless and non-verbal magic I've been practicing. Signing isn't an option.'_  He pauses for a second, _'thanks anyway.'_

 

Harry remembers back to The Burrow, those times Hermione had tried to help him, tried to teach him to communicate. It was the first week out of hospital, and his relationship with his friends had continued to become strained. He remembers his mind drifting while trying the complicated hand gestures, that he simply couldn't get the hang of, when sparks came off his fingers, and a light exploded. The second time it happened, the windows disappeared. He had stopped then, and hadn't tried again.

 

He gives the parchment back to Malfoy, who regards him silently, then reaches into his pocket and charms two seperate pieces, wand moving quickly over both them, lips parted and moving as he says an incantation. Harry watches, fascinated. His wand is new, slightly darker. _Well, this seems like a better time than any_ , Harry thinks, and gets up to his trunk. Opening it up, he reaches for the box sitting near the top, and brings it back to the bed, sitting down next to Malfoy.

 

Malfoy is looking at him strangely now, watching the box, but hands Harry one piece of parchment, showing him the writing from on one piece appearing instantly on the other. _'To talk,'_ he writes.

 

"Thank you" Harry whispers, writing,  _'for the paper,'_ pauses, take and deep breath, waiting for the burst of courage, ' _and for not telling Voldy it was me at your place,_ _and for your wand.'_

 

Harry opens the box up, picking up the pale hawthorn wand, and hands it over to Malfoy: previous enemy, git extraordinaire, utter tosser and the guy who saved his life, more than once.

 

Malfoys fingers curl over the wood, holding it tightly. His jaw works, eyes wide and bright when he looks back at Harry, seemingly lost for words. Harry, feeling every part the grave Gryffindor now that the hard part was over reaches out his hand and says in his deep, croaky old voice "can we start again?"

 

\-----

 

Draco looks at Potters outstretched hand, remembering the moment as an 11 year old by, meeting Harry Potter and offering his friendship, only to have the entire universe implode when he'd refused. It's also depressing how quickly Draco reaches out to Potter and grips his hand, holding it tightly and saying out loud, even though he knows Harry can't hear him "I'm Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you." And can't help the smile that spreads over his face.

 

They sit there, smiling at each other for a moment, until Draco gets up, heads over to his bed and starts his nightly routine. Blaise had returned from the bathroom at some stage, and gives Draco a secretive smile, looking pointedly at Potter. Draco ignores him, refusing to raise to the bait. Weasley had pulled the curtains closed at some stage during their conversation, _thank goodness they weren't disturbed by that idiot_ , Draco thinks. 

 

Later, when Draco lays down for bed, he looks over at Potter, and can see him studying the ceiling, a cheesy smile spread over his face. As if drawn to Draco's gaze, Potter turns his head and they watch each other. Draco laying on his side, Potter on his back, neck twisted to regard the other boy.

 

Heart thumping in his chest, Draco swishes his old wand and turns off the lights. As his eyes adjust to the dark, moonlight peaking through the windows, he can see Potter's mirrored his position, now laying on his side and facing Draco's bed, eyes closed in sleep.

 

_Maybe this year won't be so bad after all_ , he thinks.

 

 

\-----

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter for you today! Thank you to those leaving love and comments. I have the dirtiest, cheesiest smile on my face. You guys are amazing!
> 
> Credit to AntiSocialPenguinTalks on Tumblr for the idea, which found it's way into my brain and didn't want to leave.
> 
> Feedback is welcomed and appreciated

 

_\-----_

 

_ Give me release _

_ Witness me _

_ I am outside _

_ Give me peace _

             -  **Silence, Delirium feat. Sarah Mclachlan**

 

\-----

 

It's a few days into term when Harry receives a letter from Pansy Parkinson. It's delivered by owl at breakfast and Harry reads the letter through quickly, casting his eyes over the Slytherin table. Parkinson had been watching Harry closely, her head snapping down when she catches sight of him.

 

Harry reads through the apology again. It's short and surprisingly heartfelt, detailing how much she regrets suggesting they hand Harry over to Voldemort during the battle, and apologising for her behaviour to him over the past 8 years. It gives Harry a warm feeling, the two of them never got along, but the meaning isn't lost on Harry. It took guts to send him this, and Harry has to admit he's impressed. 

 

Harry glances at Ron and Hermione, opening letters of their own, slightly longer and with different handwriting to his. Waiting impatiently, Harry grabs a piece of toast and throws it towards Ron to get his attention and gives him a questioning look.

 

Ron starts explaining out loud. Harry, in utter disbelief, taps his ears, feeling not a little bit hurt that Ron casually _forgot_ that he was deaf. Dick.

 

Hermione hands over a note explaining they've received apology letters from Malfoy and that they're actually not bad. They have a quick discussion, the three of them, about the letters, and if Malfoy and Pansy are sincere or not. Harry gives his fair share of input on that last point, mentioning how Malfoy had been helpful the night before, talking and willing to listen. Hermione seems pleased for Harry, and looks impressed with her letter. Ron, however, still doesn't trust him, or any of the Slytherins. Those old prejudices run deep, Harry supposes. 

 

Harry actually starts to enjoy the time they're spending together at the table, sitting and talking about Malfoy, it could be 6th year all over again. Questioning his motives and arguing together about the Slytherin students. It's actually a bit nostalgic. Abruptly, Ron and Hermione stand up, on their way to DADA, a class Harry wasn't able to sign up for. Another stab in the chest, all because of his _disability_.  God it makes him angry. Although, if he's honest with himself its more of a tired angry. An exhausted angry. Rage but without the enthusiasm. Dull. That's Harry now: dull.

 

Once his friends leave, he sits there for a few minutes. He can't help but feel fed up with Ron's attitude, their friendship has been difficult to say the least. Harry can remember the incidents over the years, the really painful fights with Ron, his lack of support during the triwizard tournament, not to mention when he left them last year in the forest. _That_  memory was the most painful of all. 

 

Harry had thought they'd all changed after the war. Maybe he was wrong.

 

 \-----

 

 

A few nights later, Harry's sitting on his bed again, Malfoy's parchment out, having a full conversation about Puddlemore United's chances in the Quidditch league. Ron and Hermione were in the library studying, and had left him to his own devices after dinner in the Great Hall. Harry had soon retreated to his room.

 

_'Where are you anyway?'_ Malfoy wrote a little while later, after they had agreed to disagree on the league.

 

_ 'Bed. Where are you?' _

 

_ 'Common room, pretending to study. Longbottom and Abbott are arguing about some plants and it is TEDIOUS.' _

 

_'Stop listening in to their conversation then, Nosey.'_ After a moment he had an idea, _'Are you with Parkinson?'_

 

_ 'Yes, why?' _

 

_ 'Can you pass the parchment over to her? I want to ask her something.' _

 

Harry waits a few minutes, they're probably arguing. He could picture it, Pansy's face tight and pinched and Malfoy waving his arms around like he does when he gets worked up over something. Harry smiles at that. They've been talking during classes on the charmed two-way parchment. Malfoy has a wicked sense of humour and it was utterly refreshing.

 

_ 'Potter.' _

 

_ 'Pansy?' _

 

_ 'I'm trying to study for this pathetic potions essay, how can I help you?' _

 

_'I wanted to say thank you - for the letter. I really appreciate it. It wasn't necessary. I didn't blame you, but thank you all the same.'_ It felt inadequate after her letter. Rushed and unscripted.  Harry scrunches his nose up at his ability to cock-up a simple written conversation. He should be better at this by now. Feeling disappointed in himself is becoming a hobby by the looks of it.

 

_ 'Thank you Potter. I'm hoping we can put it behind us.'  _

 

Harry waits for Malfoy's elegant writing to appear on the paper, when he sees the dorm door open out the corner of his eye. He doesn't turn towards it, with no wish to interact with Ron right now.

 

His looks up when he feels the bed dip, to see Malfoy sitting on the edge, watching him.

 

_'I've had a idea, to help you talk to people.'_ Malfoy writes, _'I don't know if you're going to like it or not.'_ He's biting his lip, looking vaguely uncomfortable, and passes Harry a book, marked at a page halfway through. _'It's a form of legilimency,'_ explains Malfoy, writing quickly across the page as Harry starts flicking through the book. _'Short acting, only lasts a few hours before it wears off. It was initially created for healers to use in paediatric patients to check for pain and effectiveness of potions. Quite interesting really. It only shares surface thoughts, like a conversation, there's no feelings or memories shared.'_ Malfoy stops there, looking anxious.

 

Harry just sits there, thinking. His fingers linking in his lap, thumbs circling, the rhythmic motions calming him.

 

The idea of someone getting into his head is completely unsettling, especially after the _lessons_ with Snape. Those had been truely traumatising, and he doesn't need Malfoy to see any of his thoughts. Particularly the ones about Malfoy himself. He wants this new friendship thankyouverymuch.

 

Maybe he can ask Hermione and Ron? If he could do it they would be able to talk , even spend more time together. Even as he thinks it, gaze flicking over to Ron's empty bed, Harry knows it won't work. They're too focused on each other, and their studies. Harry had pushed them away since May. He'd pushed them all away. Even Ginny. No one had suggested other options after the failure of trying to use sign language, it was all writing notes. And here was a spark of light, a chance for  _something_. Harry almost didn't want to go for it, thinking it might just be too good to be true, but part of him wanted to reach out for the first time in weeks and hold onto the chance.

 

Malfoy would be able to do it, surely. It's why he's suggesting it. They could do this legitimacy link together. Wouldn't need to be sending notes all the time. Harry could spend more time with Malfoy, too. Will they be able to get along without killing each other?  The thought makes him laugh humourlessly to himself.

  

_ 'Do you know how to do it?' _

 

_ 'Of course. We could always give it a go and if you don't like it, it'll wear off.' _

 

Harry tapped his quill against the parchment, debating how to ask the next question. 

 

_'Can I trust you?'_

 

Malfoy makes eye contact with him then and seems slightly shocked. He probably didn't think Harry would just come out a say it. 

 

_ 'That's really up to you Potter, but I think you can.' _

 

Harry nods to him, "Lets try it then Malfoy."

 

Malfoy started to smirk, before both sides of his mouth lifted up in a broad smile. Harry just watchs him, on his bed, smiling, like some sort of dream.

 

_Bloody hell he's beautiful_ , t he thought tumbles around Harry's head. He hasn't been close to anyone since the battle, not since Ginny and he'd ended things, and he's been drifting away from Ron and Hermione as well. _Maybe that's all this is, a good friendship._ Harry smiles back, actually feeling happy, for the first time in a very, very long time.

 

\-----

 

Draco can't believe that Potter agreed. He had spent hours over the week, checking countless books in the library to find something to help Potter. He'd felt sorry for the poor bastard, but also felt like he owed Potter as well. After everything they'd been through, there was something connecting them together and this feels  _right_. 

 

The incantation takes moments and is very similar to the original  _legilimens_ spell. It's over quickly. 

 

Draco, wand pointed at Potter, feels the link open up. Potter's eyes are squeezed shut behind his round glasses, and Draco chuckles a little. 

 

 ** _"Potter."_** He can feel him through the link, its weak, but there. Surface thoughts coming through vaguely, tension initially, and after Draco speaks theres shock, and Potter's eyes open.

 

 _** "Malfoy?"  ** _ Potter is smiling openly at him now, voice appearing in Draco's mind. No sign of the harsh speech he'd heard over the past week - this sounded like the old Potter.

 

_** "Hi."   ** _

 

_** "I can't believe it. Thats the first thing I've heard since... since Voldemort died." ** _

 

_** "Believe it wonder-boy. You're now graced with my utterly charming voice in your head." ** _

_** "Why do I get a sense of your emotions? I thought it was just surface somethingsomething..."  ** _

 

Draco frowns slightly, actually wondering the same thing, _**"I'm not sure Potter. I may have accidentely cast the spell stronger, I have had a lot of practice with Occlumency and Legilimency."**_

 

Potter just nodded, and looked off into space for a moment. 

 

 ** _"Ok Malfoy, I haven't heard voices for months and I want you to tell me a story."_**   Potter just looks at him, completely serious, eyes bright and wide behind his glasses and a blinding smile over his face. 

 

\-----

 

 

Please note:

_'Written message'_

"Spoken word"

_**"Mind speaking"** _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to those leaving comments and love. I'm really sorry for the time it's taken to upload another chapter, I've been really unwell and it's taken some time for things to get back to 'normal'.
> 
> A short chapter today, with more coming soon!

**_ \----- _ **

_ You are breathing _

_ In this white wave _

_ I am free _

**_              -  **Silence, Delirium feat. Sarah Mclachlan** _ **

 

**_ \----- _ **

 

**_ "What do you want to be when you grow up?" _ **

 

**_ "We are grown up Potter." _ **

 

Harry huffs a small laugh, a smile spreading over his face. He's getting used to the banter, Malfoy's wit and cutting remarks. It would have seemed antagonising once, Harry likes to think he knows better now.  ** _"You know what I mean."_** Harry can feel the brief sensation of nervousness over the link, and turns to look at Malfoy. They're both laying on Harry's bed, books and parchment spread out. Harry's laying on his back, watching the ceiling, Malfoy's laying on his stomach, reading.

 

**_"I was thinking maybe becoming a healer. I've been assigned to Madam Pomfrey this year, to help out in the infirmary, as part of my sentence. Brewing potions, restocking, basic tasks,"_** he huffs, **_"nothing exciting."_** Malfoy pauses for a moment, **_"It's actually been really good."_**

 

Malfoy closes the book and watches Harry closely with narrowed eyes.  Harry pauses, thinking of Malfoy in healers robes, striding down the hospital corridors. He'd probably specialise in something really rare and be absolutely devoted to being the best at his work, it was the type of person he is. The thought gives him a smile. ** _"I think you'd be great at it."_** Harry finally sends through the link and finds he believes it. 

 

Malfoy blinks at that and then smirks,  ** _"of course Potter, I excel at everything I do."_** He pauses then, and Harry knows not to respond, and keeps silent. Malfoy may be many things, but his confidence and self-esteem seem broken after the war. These remarks come less often now, and don't carry the arrogance they once would have. **_"What about you Potter?"_**

 

Harry sighs, flopping back onto the bed heavily, going back to his study of the ceiling. He should put something up on the roof, some stars maybe? Malfoy would help him with setting it up. A couple of constellations, perhaps he could put up _Canis Major_  with a special star for Sirius. He feels the familiar pull deep inside his body, the darkness that threatens to overwhelm him whenever he remembers the loss of Sirius. Hands trembling, he wraps his arms around his body, blinks quickly and attempts to focus on the present. The feeling of his bed, soft beneath his body, the rise and fall of his chest and he breaths, the faint smell of Malfoy as he lays an arm length away. Harry's effort pays off, his breathing slows and he focuses on his answer to Malfoy's question. **_"I wanted to be an Auror. Before."_** he sighs, another loss to add to his collection. ** _"I don't know now. There's so much I can't do."_** The darkness and deep despair is inside him, beating away, spreading throughout his body. Every time he thinks about what he's lost, the pain gets pumped around his arms and legs, making them heavy, filling his chest, making it hard to breathe. This link with Malfoy has been a blessing, he's spoken to him more in the last few days than he has to anyone since May. _**"I don't know what I'm going to do now."**_

 

**_ "You do know that you don't have to make a decision yet. You've got plenty of time. Or you can come to the infirmary with me, maybe you could be a healer?" _ **

 

Harry frowns at that, thinking immediately of the last battle, **_"I've seen enough blood for a lifetime I think Malfoy."_** Harry remembers back to only a few weeks ago, opening a door and smelling the metal handle, stinging his nose and reminding him of the smell of blood. The bile had risen up in his throat and escaped out his mouth before he could move his feet. He had ended up on all fours, dry retching on the floor. All because of a door. Harry had felt pathetic for hours afterwards.

 

Malfoy's soft voice appears quietly in his mind, **_"Being an Auror probably isn't for you then."_**

 

 

\-----

 

Harry's eyes had glazed over, as they sometimes do, and Draco could feel uneasiness coming though the link, faint but enough to indicate something was wrong. He gets up and shuffles over to where Potter is laying, pokes him in the shoulder, and getting no reaction, touches his face, smoothing his hand over Potters cheek and into his long, soft hair. Softer than Draco would have thought, looking at it. It's still long, some strands had escaped while laying down, one long black strand curling near his ear.  Potter's eyes flick to Draco, body jolt, as if from a dream. His eyes are wide, his breathing shallow and fast and Draco imagines this is what he would look like after waking from a nightmare.

 

**_ "Are you ok Potter?" _ **

 

"Could you do me a favour?" Harry's voice is loud in the empty dorm room, his voice almost shy, like he wasn't sure if he was asking the right thing of him. Draco nods, cautiously, "We're friends now, yeah?" Another nod, "do you think you could start calling me Harry?"

 

Draco didn't hesitate, ** _"of course. You'll have to start calling me Draco now you realise?"_ ** He could feel the smile on his face, beaming towards Harry. He's still looking down at him when he suddenly notices their position on the bed. Biting his lip, tying to restrain his smile, Draco moves his hand from Harry's hair and turns away from the other boy. They were friends, or beginning a friendship, and that meant so much to Draco, there's no way he would risk making Harry feel uncomfortable. He gathers up his books and homework, hiding his face. Harry doesn't need to see his emotions plastered all over his face, he can probably feel enough through the link.

 

\-----

 

**_ "We'd better head down to the great hall." _ **

 

Harry sits up, watching Malfoy pack away his things, when he suddenly turns, **_"Harry, I just want you to know, you can be whatever you want to be, or do whatever you want to do, now."_** The sound of Malfoy's voice flits through Harrys mind, soft and almost shy, not the usual tone he used when talking with Harry. Although he looks sincere, he's standing awkwardly, shoulders bowed slightly,  in total contrast to his usual haughty exterior. Fiddling with the edge of his school jumper, he looks much younger with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks .

Harry can feel the link start to dissolve, as it does after a few hours, vague feelings of nervousness and apprehension coming from Malfoy fading slightly. Well, it's Draco now, Harry supposes, even though it feels strange to think of him as that, after years of animosity and conflict. Calling each other by their first names seems significant, and felt like the right thing to do.

 

He smiled a little to himself, the near-constant heaviness in his chest easing slightly. _Harry could be whatever he wanted to be._

 

\-----

 

 

Please note:

_'Written message'_

"Spoken word"

_**"Crazy new mindspeaking ability"** _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me breathing  
> kudos, my heart pumping xxx
> 
> This pic, as with all of my work, is unbetaed. All tips, constructive criticism and ideas are welcomed.

\-----

 

_Give me release_

_Witness me_

             -  **Silence, Delirium feat. Sarah Mclachlan**

 

\-----

 

Harry can feel the dream start slowly, as it usually does, with one intense sensation: bitter _bitter_ cold.

 

Even with his eyes closed he can tell he's laying down, probably on something hard and uncomfortable, judging by the slight twinge of pain in his back and neck. His teeth chattering and hands trembling, he can feel the vibrations through the surface beneath him, a rhythmic _thump-thump-thump_. Slowly opening his eyes he can see blurry shapes in his peripheral vision moving about in time to the vibration. _Thump-thump-thump_. It's silent though. There is no sound of voices, he can't hear footsteps or spells casting. He can't hear anything.

  

There's three people standing near him, looking up at a shape suspended directly above, glowing in greens, blues and reds. It's the shape of a body, Harry realises. Theres no outline, no identifying features, just the light. The people stop suddenly, and Harry's glasses are gently placed back on his nose.

 

His environment comes into focus and Harry identifies the green healers robes, some of whom are watching him closely, others waving wands and motioning towards the phantom-like body suspended above him. It's his body, Harry realises slowly, with the healers casting what appear to be diagnostic spells.

 

He watches as the spells brighten suddenly, a red light pulsating: his heart beating, the glow spreading throughout his body, filling his arms and legs, navigating throughout his fingers and toes. Harry is transfixed for a moment, watching the steady fluttering. His brain is lit up in blue, sparks firing off haphazardly; some travelling down his spine and into his body. The green light is complicated at first glance, but eventually indicates the different lumps of organs in his stomach, making Harry feel slightly nauseated and dizzy, and he looks quickly away. A yellow light has appeared, near the blue in his head, on the left and right. Near his ears. 

 

A healer is looking directly at Harry, pointing towards the light-body, mouth moving but the silence stretches on.

 

"WHAT?" Harry yells, eyebrows drawing down. The last thing he could remember was Voldemort falling after the final battle and everything went dark. He doesn't notice the people around his flinch, hands flying over their ears. "IS VOLDEMORT DEAD? WHATS GOING ON? WHY IS EVERYTHING SO QUIET?"

 

Harry notices some of them step back now, holding hands to their ears. Harry can't hear his words but had felt his mouth move his breath leave his lungs.

 

A healer looms forward with a board, swiftly writing: ' _Mr. Potter, you're in St Mungos. You were seen to collapse after the battle and were brought here. There are reports that you-know-who is dead."_ He pauses for a moment, tapping the board lightly, forehead creased in concentration before continuing, _'We are attempting to assess any damage your body may have sustained during the battle. Please lay still for now.'_

 

Harry leans back onto the uncomfortable bed, feeling stunned. He's frozen in place, staring up at his light-body with wide disbelieving eyes. Voldemort's gone? He's really _gone?!_

 

A smile slowly starts to spread as warmth blooms through his chest and escaping as full blown laughter. His fists are clenched as he raises his arms, fists pumping the air, sheer relief flows through him, not unlike the red light pulsing above as the healers complete their assessment.

 

He's free. _Free_. For the first time in 17 years he's free. No more Horcruxes. No more murderous mad man trying to kill him. No more fighting. No more _camping_! He was finally, finally, free. And it feels _spectacular_.

 

\-----

 

 

As Harry slowly wakes from the dream, blinking as his eyes adjust to the early morning light struggling through his window in the boys 8th year dorm, he feels the leftover joy,  that sense of utter relief when he'd discovered that Voldemort was gone. The light that had surrounded him and the clean, calming environment. 

 

The feeling fades quickly like the night outside the window and the usual cold dullness replaces it, settling heavily into his chest. The dream had been so vivid, so clear. That moment he had woken in hospital after the final battle. He'd thought that everything would be different now. Better. He gives a little snort in disgust. What an idiot he'd been.

 

Harry, turning onto his side, slowly brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around himself, watching, but not really seeing, the photos at the side of his bed, and trying to forget how happy he had been.

 

\-----

 

After the vivid memory-dream, Harry feels disorientated for days. His classes are filled with writing, reading, writing and more writing. With nothing breaking up the monotony of it all. He spends small amounts of time with Ron and Hermione in the library, but excuses himself quickly, opting to study alone in the dorm or walk through the castle, thinking. 

 

Life returning to Hogwarts isn't what Harry had been expecting. His classes are similar to previous years, homework is the same, most of the usual people surrounding him. There's somehow a huge difference, a gaping hole in him somewhere, a lack of... _something._ Harry knows it's not his hearing, it's more than that. Something feels _wrong_. Missing. 

 

He just has no idea what...

 

\----- 

 

After his usual disastrous potions class that morning, Harry heads towards the infirmary with Hermione and Ron for a routine check up of his hearing, and finds himself under the care of Madam Pomfrey and one of her new assistants, Millicent Bulstrode.

 

After a quick set of diagnostic spells, and a written set of questions suspiciously like a quiz, Harry is handed eye drops the colour of the bluest ocean Harry has ever seen. The small amount of liquid in the vial is the most stunning swirl of colours and Harry is transfixed on the mixture for a time, before his arm is touched gently by Bulstrode.

Harry vaguely remembers Malfoy mentioning she was also assigned to do her community work in the infirmary. _'You may need new glasses, Mr Potter. Can you contact the company who made your current prescription and have a reassessment of your eyesight?'_ Harry reads on the piece of parchment.

 

The overly formal tone of the note makes him smile for a moment, before thinking to himself, Bullstrode would never speak to him like this.

 

Harry watches, head slightly tilted to the side, as she continues to run diagnostic spells, some similar to those completed at St Mungos, her face a slight frown in concentration, lips parted and arm making swift, precise movements. Harry is almost fooled, until her sees her eyes flick to his quickly, then back to her spell. Ah, avoiding eye contact then. Harry imagines for a moment what the 8th year slytherins are experiencing this year, during their _rehabilitation_. Their NEWTS as well as community work - it's almost cruel and petty. Although a spiteful voice inside him says _its better than Azkaban._

 

Harry can't complete the homework and revision he currently has, without taking extra classes in muggle appreciation studies, conflict resolution and being assigned to a professor for hours a week! He wouldn't pass! It's almost like their expected to fail this year, Harry wonders. What a price to pay for choosing the wrong side in a war at 17 years old.

 

"I don't know where I got my glasses, my aunt and uncle organised it all." Harry eventually says out loud.

 

Bullstrode purses her lips and finishes the spell, giving Harry's glasses a quick look. Grabbing a new piece of parchment she quickly writes the name of a business in Diagon Alley along with a small note _'we don't need your eyesight to go as well, Mr. Potter.'_

 

Leaving, he reaches for Bullstrodes arm, and squeezing slightly said, "Thank you, Millicent, I really appreciate it."

 

She nods to him in return, acknowledging the exchange between them.

 

It makes Harry smile, the subtle way these Slytherins work, although it was probably a pure blood thing. Would he speak this language if he had been sorted Slytherin?

 

After letting Hermione know they needed to send a letter for new glasses, they slowly and silently make their way to the owlery. A little fantasy runs through Harry's head as he climbs the stairs. 7 years of living in Slytherin dorm with Malfoy and Zabini, knowing what Slytherins Monster was, most likely, during second year. He probably would have known Sirius was innocent straight away if he asked Malfoy, whose father would have known, being in Old Voldys inner circle. The tri wizard tournament? The Slytherins would have been overjoyed if they'd had a champion, no matter who it was. Malfoy could have taught him occlumency in fifth year, and maybe Sirius would still be alive.

 

As one year of memories merges into another Harry can see the changes, slight at first, then more significant as the war escalates. Everything could have been different, possibly easier, certainty less deaths and fewer losses. What about now, coming back to a crowded castle of former enemies? Harry hadn't noticed fights breaking out or bullying, but tensions had certainly been high in the boys dorm, was it the same throughout the school?

 

Once Harry, Ron and Hermione arrive, they quickly compose a letter requesting an appointment, Harry, distracted as he was with thoughts of the Slytherin house didn't mind his friends writing the bulk of it.

 

Harry stands at the window, gazing out at the horizon, utterly lost in his thoughts. The sky was already started to darken, with the approaching winter months, and a cool breeze sent a shiver through Harry's body. The thick dark clouds, a heavy grey threatened rain, or perhaps snow, if they were unlucky. Harry could see movement in amongst the trees of the forbidden forest, thestrals leaping above the trees, their dark wings contrasting beautifully against the green tree line. 

 

He hadn't spent time in the owlery, hadn't wanted to. The loss of Hedwig had been too much and it will take time before he's be ready to think about getting another owl.

 

Standing in his quiet world, with the full view of the Scottish highlands spread out in front of him, Harry feels almost suspended in time. Perhaps it's the troubling thoughts of the Slytherin house and their relationship with the rest of the students. Harry pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting softly as his thoughts continue to race. He hadn't noticed how fast he was breathing until Hermione gently lays her hand on his arm with a reassuring squeeze. When Harry turns towards her he can see the curiosity clear in her eyes, the questions not yet asked, and he tries to bring himself back from where his thoughts were leading. With one last look back out at the landscape, Harry prepares himself for a long conversation with his friends on the current state of the students at Hogwarts.

 

\-----

 

Harry hadn't known. Or maybe he hadn't been ready to know. So focused on himself, Harry hadn't seen the other students struggling. But he saw it now. 

 

He paces along the old astronomy tower, near the classrooms. Sixteen steps across, turn, sixteen steps back, turn. Walking the length of the room, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides and completely lost in thought. 

 

He had spent a few days watching. He watched the other students during meals, he watched them in the corridors and he watched them in classrooms. Mostly, he watched the Slytherin students. The first years who were quiet and shy and kept to themselves; avoided by the other houses. He noticed the older students, hexed in the corridors, too afraid to retaliate. And Harry watched the 8th years, keeping to themselves and generally ignored by everyone. 

 

He'd made the choice, after the lengthy (and exhausting) written conversation with Hermione and Ron, to do the right thing. Hermione had initially been surprised by his questions, but answered them honestly. Harry was lucky they had the time to spend with him that day, after their walk to the owlery, and Harry gave them a tight hug when they'd finished. He hadn't explained about the link with Malfoy and their conversations. It was between them, and Harry wanted to keep it that way. 

 

Draco had given him a gift, and asked for nothing in return. Harry, so centred on his internal silent, bleak world, felt the pang of regret. The stab in the stomach, the guilt of taking and not giving back. With the bitter taste of disgust in his mouth he realised it was on par with the Dursleys. This was how Dudley had acted for _years_. 

 

Continuing his lap of the Tower, it didn't take long to realise what he could do for Draco, and by extension the rest of the Slytherin students, and with a sense of purpose he turns abruptly and strides down the corridor, chin raised and arms swinging confidently, ready to execute the first phase of his plan. 

 

\-----

 

Draco sits at the Slytherin table, studiously keeping his head down, trying to eat dinner. His house is subdued tonight, more so than usual. The scattered conversations are hushed and quiet. There's no laughter, no jokes, no pranks. The difference to previous years is startling.

 

He hasn't seen much of Harry over the last few days, not since they had spoken of their future after Hogwarts. Draco remembers the anxiety he'd experienced telling Harry he wanted to be a Healer. He hadn't even told his parents yet. Too afraid to disappoint them. 

 

It would be easy to hide it from his father, while locked behind the walls of Azkaban, he was hardly a threat. Thank goodness. Their relationship since the war had been tense to say the least; worse since the trials. Mother had saved Harry's life, and helped to win the war. It seemed Father wasn't too pleased with her actions, and luckily had been taken to Azkaban directly after his trial. Draco didn't know what his father would have done. It gives him a little shudder to think what his father would do to him, if he knew everything. 

 

Draco's mother would prefer him to take after Lucius; take over the family businesses, find a well behaved pure-blood girl and make copious amounts of baby heirs.  The very idea of it makes the bile rise up Dracos throat. He and Pansy had tried dating years ago, and it was made abundantly clear that it suited neither of them.

 

Draco was pulled from his musings with the arrival of Blaise, sitting down quickly next to him. Continuing to eat his meal he slowly notices the lack of conversation around the table, people stopping mid sentence, or those trailing off into nothing. Looking around the table in confusion, Draco can feel the eyes of most of the hall on him, mouths open, some whispering furiously between friends. 

 

He turns questioningly to Blaise next to him -- only to find Harry, calmly as you please, reaching for food and starting to eat. Pausing quickly to smile at Draco.

 

Draco could only stare at him. He probably looked like the rest of the great hall, jaw dropped, mouth hanging open, eyes as big as their dinner plates. He probably looked an absolute sight.

 

"What the bloody _fuck_ is Potter doing here?" Pansy hisses from across the table moments later.

 

Draco's mind must have shut down, seeing the Saviour of the wizarding wold sitting amongst known Death Eaters. Utterly blank, he lets Pansy's question go unanswered. He turns his body full to Harry now, watching him calmly eating. 

 

"Draco!" Pansy says louder. "Darling, close your mouth before an owl flies in and roosts!"

 

His jaw snaps up, teeth clinking together. He blinks for a few seconds, then turns back to Harry, reaching over and squeezing his arm gently. Harry looks at him with an amused expression on his face, he catches sight of the rest of the student body and cracks a grin and wiggles his eyebrows. 

 

"How was your day Draco?" he says, clearly and almost too loud for a casual conversation. With the people starring in the hall, his voice carries across the room. "Do anything exciting?" 

 

Draco feels his eyebrows crease and he tries to give him a questioning look. He isn't carrying any parchment and he can't complete the link here in amongst the entire student body. Draco shakes his head at him lightly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, completely lost for words. 

 

Harry just cracks a smile and continues to eat his meal. Looking more carefree than Draco has seen him since school started. 

 

\-----

 

 


End file.
